


We Don't Belong Anywhere

by bofurrific



Series: Hobbit Drabbles [22]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bifur is the best cousin ever, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 00:49:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bofurrific/pseuds/bofurrific
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink Meme Fill</p><p>Bofur Crying</p><p> </p><p>There is no Thorin, no Fili and Kili, and no Bilbo left for him and the sea of gold is dull and rusted in his eyes when he thinks of what they gave up to gain it. He takes to hiding in the mines where only Bifur and Bombur can find him and coax him out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Don't Belong Anywhere

Bofur doesn't know why he is shocked when Bilbo leaves with Gandalf following the Battle of Five Armies. He has no ties to the dwarves, not really, and Bofur cannot lay claim to him no matter how he wishes to.

He doesn't watch the retreating hobbit's back, holing himself up under the mountain under the guise of exploring the mines he hadn't seen since he was a dwarrow, and tells himself that this is what he wanted, what he set out to do, to see Erebor and reclaim the treasure, and that a halfling shouldn't have such an effect on him.

But still the weeks pass and Bofur, who can make himself at home anywhere, be it the blue mountains, a hobbit hole, a troll cave or a great mountain hall, cannot make himself fit in here at Erebor. 

There is no Thorin, no Fili and Kili, and no Bilbo left for him and the sea of gold is dull and rusted in his eyes when he thinks of what they gave up to gain it. He takes to hiding in the mines where only Bifur and Bombur can find him and coax him out. 

And then Bombur goes too, takes his share of the gold and leaves for the Blue Mountains where his wife and children have been awaiting him. He doesn't ask Bofur to come with him, knows he would refuse, and bids his older brother farewell with a tight hug that makes his eyes wet, and then Bifur is all there is left.

It takes a lot to make Bofur truly upset. He is used to being a light in the darkness, strives to bring smiles to downtrodden faces, but he remembers times in his life when there was no laughter, when Bifur's father told their mother of her husband's demise in a mining accident and suddenly Bofur was the man of the house and unready, when he was chased from his home by a stream of flame with Bombur's chubby hands tucked tight in his own, when he stood by Bifur's bedside and stared at the axe they couldn't remove. But he had always forced a smile in place, welded it there if he had to, and moved on. So how could such a thing, a halfling he had only known as long as their journey, crush everything good in Bofur's chest just by not being there? How could being homesick in his own home make it so hard to move?

Bofur is staring into nothing, in a dark and unexplored corner of the great kingdom and Bifur comes up behind him. He hears a soft sigh, a curse mumbled under breath, and feels the heavy weight of a hand on his shoulder. It hits him hard that their places are very much reversed, that he and Bombur used to come across their cousin staring into the abyss and not moving for hours at a time and have to coax him back to the land of the living. 

And it isn't fair of him to do this to Bifur, who has been through enough on his own, to be so selfish and hide himself away. He lifts his head, daring to look into his cousin's eyes, and sees only softness where there hasn't been in years, and his own eyes fill before he can stop them, before he can even think about what he is doing.

The sob bubbles up from his chest, a low, keening moan, and he lets go of Bifur's hand on his shoulder to clutch at his own chest, doubling over. He hasn't cried in years, not like this, but he can't catch his breath because Bilbo was right so long ago: he doesn't belong anywhere.

Bofur cries into his hands like a child, heaving and sniffing wetly when he can suck in a breath, and one hand fists in his hair and doesn't know what to do, doesn't know what he can do except sit there and bawl until a hand cups the back of his head and he is tugged forward gruffly into Bifur's chest.

Bifur has never been the hugging type, not really even before the accident. It has always been Bofur to comfort them, and Bifur's hand sliding under his cap and through his braids, the other wound tight around his back, only makes Bofur cry harder because he can't make himself stop.

Bofur cries until there is nothing left, and the tears are long dried on Bifur's tunic when the quiet mewls and sobs stop dragging from from his throat. The cousins sit quietly until Bofur regains his dignity and pulls away, swiping roughly at his swollen face and Bifur respectfully looks away, although he keeps a hand on Bofur's shoulder.

When Bofur can look at him again, Bifur grabs his arm and tugs him away from the mines and the halls, away from the lonely mountain, and Bofur follows without question. They were wanderers before they reclaimed Erebor and they will wander again until they find a place where they belong, until they find a place to call home.


End file.
